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I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the Scum of
the Earth Church for two days now. I think I finally found the metaphor
to describe it. “Scum,” as those involved call it, is the parable of the
wedding banquet (especially Luke’s version in chapter 14) in 21st
century clothing, sort of. Read on and see if you agree with me.
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Scum of the Earth Church meets on Sunday nights at
the Church in the City on the corner (the northeast corner) of
Colfax Ave. and Josephine St. in Downtown Denver. Perhaps the side
of Colfax is of significant symbolical importance. Colfax Ave. is
thought of by many in this city as a kind of “spiritual demarcation
line.” The north side is (I actually read this) “a spiritually dark
area.” South of Colfax is an area akin to First Ward or Dilworth for
those who need a Charlotte landmark. Something that should be said
about this area of Colfax Ave. to everyone at home: We really do not
have a part of town that adequately corresponds to the cultural
milieu of this community.
So… what is apparent in this church is a type of situation where,
“If they won’t come to the mountain, let’s take the mountain to
them.” (That’s incredibly trite and superficial but please take it
as a starting point to getting a glimpse into the significance of
this place.) |
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Truth be told, many of the regular people in this
community wouldn’t or couldn’t find a place in perhaps most of our
culturally traditional churches around the country.
Lots of gothic dress style. Plenty of people in black, including black
lipstick and eye shadow. Multiple body piercings were quite common.
Chains as jewelry. Homeless people and college students sitting side by
side. But don’t automatically stereotype Scum of the Earth: There were
also people in oxford button-down shirts (no khaki’s however – jeans are
the garment of choice around here). In fact, I noticed a leavening of
what appeared to be high school kids attending in groups here and there.
These several groups engaged in typical high school behavior: They
entered in a pack, sat together, engaged primarily with their own, and
left in that same pack. I did wonder if Scum of the Earth has achieved
the status (dubious, perhaps?) of the “Edgy place to go to church on
Sunday night” for the more adventurous crowd of high school age consumer
Christians? (Other churches that deal with this describe it as very much
a “mixed blessing.”)
In a sense, I got the feeling that I was experiencing a present day
version of the Hell’s Kitchen Social Gospel ministry of the 20s that
many of us read about in seminary. This is a church that takes seriously
reaching out to those who many treat as unreachable. (And not just in
the trite, “mission” ways – but by building a community of faith that
includes those excluded elsewhere.)
To this point, everything I’ve mentioned is superficial. Let me share a
bit about the worship gathering and my impressions of that.
The music was as edgy in some ways as were the majority of the 250 or so
attending. One specific thing I’d never experienced in a worship setting
was the percussionist’s use of many alternative instruments, including
an Australian rain stick.
When before I’ve mentioned “bare bones” services, I mean those that have
little Scripture, few corporate prayers, no liturgy, and the like. This
night’s gathering might come closer to “no bones.” There were a few
announcements, some singing, then an introduction to “story night.” They
do this “from time to time” where members of the community share a
testimony. The staff person making this introduction did mention that
“testimonies aren’t just for sharing how you come to Christ. They are
for sharing how you are walking with Christ, because it’s a lifetime
journey, not a one shot deal.” Then four people came up and spoke for a
few minutes each.
In a sense, that’s when worship began. Or at least, when the essence of
this community as an expression of the Body of Christ came to light for
me.
One man came forward and shared, not just his struggle as a Christian
with sexual desires, but also shared some of his past growing up as an
African American living in south Atlanta riding two buses and the MARTA
everyday to attend an exclusive private school in North Atlanta. (Assume
correctly here: if you’re not a “northside insider” you get into this
school by being better and smarter than everyone else. I know because I
know this school and remember some of my youth group kids in the mid 80s
who attended there.) This guy is a poet, and perhaps a performer. He
shared a poem that he felt was God’s call to him in relation to his
sexual desires. And the poem had a refrain line, “God, I’m Pissed!”
“This is hard, and I don’t understand, and I’m afraid to trust you, so
God, I’m Pissed!” was one line I remember. What he shared was raw, it
was edgy, it was, in many arenas of “church life,” “unacceptable” and
yet it was absolutely compelling to everyone there because this guy was
in front of 250 people baring his soul about his struggle to live in
relationship with Jesus Christ.
A second man stood up and shared his struggle of living a faithful life
while selling and using drugs, spending time in and out of prison, and
finally realizing this past year, that at 27 years old, he has already
wasted most of his life. (Think about the average life-span in the U.S.
and try to fit into that a 27-year old who basically thinks he’s already
blown most of his life!) Were it not for his new-found faith, he didn’t
think he could even get up in the morning.
A woman stood and shared her past of looking for love through the giving
of sex, and finally finding true love in God, that in turn led her to
her husband, and to the faith that helps them struggle with the cancer
he was diagnosed with last year.
A forth person stood up and shared his story of growing up in a mainline
church (I won’t describe it more than that.) He shared his excitement
about being invited at 11 years old to his first “youth group guys’ only
campout” up in the Rockies . And about how neither he nor his father
thought it strange that only he, the deacon in charge of the youth
group, and that man’s son showed up to go. He then went on to share the
hell of being raped by his youth pastor in a tent with the man’s son
right there. He also shared the pain / shame / confusion of the next
three years of attending that same church since he “couldn’t tell his
parents” and they “would not dream of leaving ‘our’ church.” Every
Sunday spent in church with that same man there. Every Sunday a
terrifying nightmare wondering if the man would find him alone in a
Sunday school room or back hallway.
This man shared how some years later, while attending another church of
the same denomination, he finally called up the courage to deal with his
past. He shared how he made an appointment with the pastor, came to the
pastor’s office, sat down, began sharing this nightmare he’d been
living, and how the pastor immediately ushered him out of his office.
This wasn’t something he was prepared to “get involved” with. The man’s
point? That all this was the “baggage” he’d carried around until finding
a community he could trust to let them assist God in the process of
healing him. (There was much more involved that he shared, but I’m not
relating this to be voyeuristic.)
Rather the point I want to make is in the form of a question. How much
trust, love, and acceptance must there be in this community for it to be
possible for folks to bare their souls in such a way during public
worship? Perhaps ask it another way. When was the last time anyone
reading this remembers a person having both the courage and the trust in
a community as a whole to publicly share something this real and
gut-wrenching? Do we trust one another enough to be this real with each
other? It’s as good a definition of “community” as any I can think of.
That’s what I’m beginning to see as one of the “common denominators” in
the emerging communities I’m visiting with.
One final observation: The offering at Scum of the Earth Church was
taken at the very end of the service, with a clear announcement: “If you
are here for the first time, we’re not asking you for money – this is
for those of us who call this community home.” There were several
Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets up front that they said stands for “Kash
For Christ.” I watched during the singing as people went forward and saw
a prostitute, dressed for work later that evening, come forward and put
an offering in one of the buckets. (I realize that I’m engaging in
stereotypical thinking even in saying this, considering the fact that I
really don’t know for certain whether I’ve ever seen a prostitute or
not.) But I’m assuming she was a prostitute for two reasons: One, I’ve
never seen anyone dressed like that regardless of her sense of propriety
or modesty; and two, this particular area of Denver is very well known
as an area frequented by those in the “sex trade industry.” ( Denver
seems to be one of the towns, primarily in the West, where the more
politically correct nomenclature is “Sex Industry Worker.”) What I
observed when all this happened, was a member of the Scum staff notice
the woman place that offering in the bucket. She then got up from the
front area and walked diagonally across the room to meet this woman
before she could leave the building. (As soon as she placed her offering
in the bucket, she walked back down the aisle, not to her seat, but
towards the exit.) As I glanced over my shoulder, I watched the staff
person almost run up to this woman, greet her, and wrap her arms around
her in an unmistakably warm embrace. That’s where I get the metaphor of
the wedding banquet from. What does it say about a community, regardless
of doctrine or theology, when people from “the highways and hedges” are
welcomed into the Body of Christ with such love? It seems to me that
this was certainly “sheep behavior” as outlined in Matthew ch. 25 if
I’ve ever seen it. Likewise, what do we do with the idea that far too
often, it takes a church like Scum of the Earth for a person like many
there this past Sunday night to find this kind of welcome?
Grace,
Rodger P. Sellers
PorticoChurch.org
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